


Not Quite Colorblind

by braggwood



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other, luke and del r the chillest boyfriends ever, only slightly it's cute trust me, romcom shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braggwood/pseuds/braggwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock's either really lucky, or fate hates him, because he has ten soulmates. Ten. And somehow, he found all of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Double Teamed

**Author's Note:**

> just take it, we need more poly bbs anyways

Brock's been seeing in blues, greens and browns his whole life.

Water looked like what he imagined space to be like, swirling with every different shade and tint and hue of green and blue there was, sometimes with brown in it as well. They'd curl and pour in every which way, making the monochrome that is his normal life seem even more dull than usual and yet brightening it at the same time. He knew he was lucky, seeing more than one color, that most people only saw one, that his two (or three, or four, or even _five-)_ soulmates are living like this too. 

He'd have to meet them one day, right?  There's only so many polyamorous soulmates in the world, right?

That's what he told himself for twenty eight years of daydreaming, hoping and staring into the big blue expanse that was the sky, feeling green (not pure, tinted with something, but he can't see that yet) grass. Setting succulents and flowerpots in every window of his apartment because if he was gonna be gifted with more than one color he'll damn well enjoy it.

  
  


Fate must really have it out for Brock because the day he met Blue Eyes #1  _ sucked. _

 

Mother Nature apparently decided to make the rest of California underwater too, cause it was slamming down like bullets onto whatever and whoever dared to go outside, trying with all it's might to flush everything away.

So of course he got caught in it.

Brock jolted at the first drop on his shirt, then jumped a foot off the ground when what felt like a bucket get poured onto his head. "Shiiiiiiit," He held the syllable for as long as it took him to get into the nearest open shop, which was a good amount of time, so it was a very long 'shiiiiiiiiit'. Like, a minute long. Brock looked down at himself, making a face at his soaked everything. He shook out his shirt as best he could, sending water everywhere and doing very little to dry it.

"Damn it." He sighed. With tired acceptance he embraced his fate to look like a drowned cat and instead saw, really saw, the store he was in for the first time. Brown was everywhere. Like, everywhere. Maybe it was because he saw almost exclusively in it, but this person is either a big fan of it or has no clue they just practically dumped brown paint on everything.

It was a cozy shop, don't get him wrong, the beige walls went with whatever the floor was, and the bookshelves lining the walls and making aisles were all an almost black green.

"Hello? Anyone here? I'm sorry, I just got half drowned on your doorstep." Thump. Voice cursing very creatively. More thumps in a rhythm, getting closer and closer until Brock sees a man walking up one of the aisles.

He was  _ hot. _

 

Maybe he was biased, since he was soaking this guy's floor and hoping he was forgiving to it, but he had one big blue eye like the sky, a brown one like gemstones, horn rimmed glasses on his head and Brock was  _ fucked. _

He'd stopped getting excited over every blue eyed person he met, but this was the first heterochromiac he's ever met, and that could change everything.

"You weren't kidding, holy shit." His voice was weird and indescribable and seriously, Brock needed to calm the fuck down. Brock shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I wish I could say I was. Sorry for your floor by the way. Do you mind if I, like, hide in here? Just until the storm passes, because I don't have a car and I'm pretty sure God is trying to cleanse the world again."

Blue Eyes giggled and managed a 'yes' between laughs and Jesus skateboarding Christ, he was adorable.

He headed down the same aisle he came out in, clearly expecting Brock to follow and he did. Quite enthusiastically. For once in his life, rain actually did something helpful. It was like Christmas all over again, but without the conservative relatives and religion and more " _this hot guy is nice to me and therefore a gift to this world."_ They reached the end of the store fairly quickly, the bookshelf walls stopping to open up to a sitting area completely with tables and chairs, except the chairs are all from different sets and tables were uneven. It felt like a thrift shop, brownstone and library all in one and Brock could feel warmth coming back to his fingers just by being there. Or maybe it was the fire in the hearth.

"Do you want, uh, a shirt or something? We got tons of shit if you need it. And you're probably gonna freeze your ass off if you stay in those."

"Yeah, thanks. Um, I'm Brock, by the way." Brock said it to his back as the stranger walked into another room. "Jonathan! Or Delirious, if ya wanna be different." He responded. "You gotta preference?"

He stuck his wonderful, wonderful face out the door frame and held up two shirts. "The orange one's fine," Brock freezed as soon as he said it. Holy shit. _Holy shit._

Jonathan's eyes got a little wider and something that might have been disappointment bloomed. But Brock couldn't get past the color in his life. It was subtle, barely even there, saturated and diluted to almost nothing but there was a hint of red in the carpet and a purple on a chair and he could see it. He stared at Jonathan in wonderment. "Can you see it?" He asked breathlessly, and Jon's eyebrows furrowed.

"Whadda mean? See whaaaa- holy  _ shit!" _

Jonathan looked at the shirt in his hand, then at Brock, then the walls, the pictures, and then back at Brock like he hung the moon. Brock wasn't ashamed to say he loved it. "You're my soulmate. You're my soulmate! Oh my god!" He laughed with sunshine in it and he bounced on his toes, giggling like a schoolgirl, though Brock couldn't say anything because he was jumping up and down, hands waving like a drunk conductor and laughing uncontrollably.

The next time their eyes met Jonathan grabbed his face and kissed him, and the next time their eyes met  _ after  _ that time was because they were laughing too much to kiss.

"Give me-give me a second!" Jonathan wheezed, hands covering his mouth like a scandalized Southern belle. Wow, way to go Brock, that's real romantic.

"Wanna tell me why you're kissing another guy in our own home?" A voice drawled from somewhere and Brock's heart jumped as a guy stuck his head out of the door frame, (what is up with these people and door frames?) looking from Jonathan to Brock and back again.

Oh no. Oh no no no, he is  _ not  _ soulmates with a taken man, he's not gonna break them up, he's seen that before and it always, always ends bad.  Before Brock could stammer out an apology and bolt out the door, rain be damned, Jonathan bounded over to the guy like an overexcited puppy and held the shirt up to him.

"Luke, what color is this?"  Luke looked from the shirt to Brock and back to Jonathan.

"Orange, why?"

"Because I know  _ your  _ shirt is red."

 

Brock had to give it to him, for a fairly shitty hint Luke put it together pretty quickly. He looked between them, back to Del and back to Brock with an enormous grin on his face.

With a " _ Woo fucking hoo!"  _ he picked Delirious up by the waist like they were in a romcom, spinning them around and setting off another round of giggling.

Brock didn't know if the feeling in his chest was from the fucking adorable scene or heartbreak.

 

They nearly ran into the wall.

 

Brock decided it was both.

 

He didn't mention the yellow seeping into the fire place just yet, or a brighter shade in the cups on the counter.  Or the fact that his heart was pounding like a drum because Jesus Christ on a bike he just found two soulmates, in one day, in one  _ minute,  _ who were obviously already dating, who were excited one found a soulmate and not the other. 

He promised to thank every rain deity he could when he got the time.

When the tears in his eyes cleared enough Luke ran over to Brock, smiled unfalteringly and offered his hand to shake.

"Holy shi- _ et  _ dude," He addressed Brock for the first time with a lopsided grin. "Congratulations on the soulmate you magnificent bastard, you just got yourself two boyfriends- one, shit, you might not be cool with that, sorry." He said it like an afterthought, because of  _ course  _ not everyone would be okay with someone else dating their soulmate, or dating multiple people at all, but Brock has had his whole life to think about this and  _ like hell  _ he's going to hesitate now.

So he grabbed Luke's face and kissed him. 

Gently of course, because while  _ he's  _ okay with it doesn't mean this stranger wants to kiss a stranger as well, so he left plenty of space to pull back if he wanted.

Which he didn't.

Luke stepped closer, landed his arms around Brock's neck and he had to wonder if Delirious was as happy as they were.

Considering the hysterical laughter, he'd hazard a guess and say he was.


	2. who needs a title it's a romcom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of ways to your soulmate. Brock finds that out himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this is rushed and subject to change but!! i love posting here and all ur comments and kudos are helping a lot :' chapter three is more planned out so it'll probably be posted sooner? anyways there's a bunch of soulmate aus in this fic so those will be brought it a few times

Brock adjusted to his new life easily. It was weird, finally finding one soulmate but still dating a not fated man, then figuring out how to date two people at once, then watching the world around you fill with saturated color. But he liked it.

One happy year later, Brock had his own room in the brownstone, even if it was small and barely used. C'mon, like he was gonna pass up the opportunity to wake up with his boyfriends' next to him. What ever furniture he brought with him was donated, sold or joined the other bits and pieces in the shop or their apartment.

 

Luke found a friend with benefits turned actual boyfriend six months in. His name was Evan, he was hot and Canadian and very good at fucking, Jon you'd like him- Brock let him be. Open relationships never bothered him, and even if they did, Luke would have slammed dunked that opinion in the trash by now. So his boyfriend's boyfriend didn't bother him. Evan kept being good at sex, Luke kept being happy, and Brock kept looking for more soulmates like a lovestruck Indiana Jones. He loved his boys dearly, but there was still God knows how many mates out there, and he wouldn't be satisfied until he could see every shade of color there is.

 

People watching in a crowded city street probably isn't the best way to find them, but whatever. But there's no how to guide for romance, so Brock's strategy is totally legitimate. It hasn't worked yet, but whatever.

Totally legit. It totally did work though. No matter what Luke ever says about it, his plan works all the time, every time. One hundred percent success rate.

He sat at a table outside some random cafe, holding his coffee in one hand and scrolling through Twitter with the other. People passed by every so often, going about their business, and he looked at every single one of them. Nope. No more color than before, though still checked his phone for any brighter colors. Not a thing.

He almost left to go home when a Hispanic guy a few feet away started staring at him.

 

After the first time, Brock gave up trying to predict what would happen when he meets mates for the first time. There's no rhyme or reason to it, just coincidence. But still, he did not expect a guy frantically signing at him while violently pointing at his wrist. Brock was kinda scared he'd slit his wrist or something.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't know sign language." He said apologetically. Setting his coffee on the table Brock smiled in a hopefully reassuring way. How do you even talk to a mute person without sign language or a lot of pen and paper? Shit, could he be deaf?

"Wait, are you deaf? I should have asked that first." Good job. That's a nice way to put it, and Christ alive, if he's deaf he _couldn't_ _hear him_. Brock had a college education, he swears.

The stranger shook his head with a sigh, as if Brock's testing him or something. That was a little rude.

He raised his arm to Brock's face and shook it a little bit. With a small sigh Brock looked at it, and immediately cursed under his breath. There was an empty timer on it, flashing bright blue zeroes at him.

"Ohhhh." The guy nodded like _duh_.

"So...how do we talk?"

A phone has offered.

"Well, okay then. I'm Brock. Your's?" He typed in his number before giving it back to the man, and after a second of typing his phone chimed.

 _Arlan_.

"So Arlan. I'm just now seeing how bright the sky is, so while you're nice to look at, can you move? I like to see the color come in."

 

 

So, turned out that Arlan had a very nice dog named Joe. And a very nice boyfriend, Lui, who smiled a lot and translated for them. Brock liked him a lot.

Jon liked Arlan just as much as he liked everyone. Luke flirted like hell and somehow knew sign language and Brock didn't bother to ask.

It took him two weeks in learn how to say hi in sign language, but seeing his smile made it worth it. It took three more to go on a real date, and two more to finally, finally learn how to say soulmate.


	3. chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait guys!! uploading's rlly hard on mobile and i can't do it on a computer often so. i can't promise the next chapter will be here any quicker but it's already written so it should be up in the next month at least. again sorry, ill try to have it up faster!!

He just wanted to go to the park.

Brock just wanted to walk around with Jon, enjoy the sunshine, and watch all the dogs run by. But no, fate just has to fuck with him _again_.

He was sat on a bench under the shade of a flowering tree with white petals dusted on and around him, Jon tucked into his side with his legs spread over the rest of the bench. His face was hidden in a thick blue book with an illegible title printed in faded gold on the spine. The air was warm but not suffocating, the sun was there but not overbearing, it was breezy and comfortable and perfect.

But of course, _of course_ fate fucks it up for him. What a tool.

There was a busker sitting on the concrete in front of the fountain, occasionally strumming a few chords or taking requests from passerby. He considers asking for a song for Jon, but decides against it. It wasn’t worth the anxiety.

They sat together in comfortable silence, resting against each other while Jon read and Brock watches the birds fly and people walk around until his gaze was drawn back to the little dog by the busker. He didn’t actually mean to make eye contact with him, but he had a dog next to him and it drew his attention over, and you can't just stare at someone’s dog and then not smile at them. It’s dog etiquette.

Brock’s breath hitched when their eyes met, and he could see the green of the leaves around him get stronger. _Fuck_. He would have kept staring, but the guy just smiled at him before going back to his guitar, so he dragged his gaze away to stare at the flowers as their colors slowly tinted darker.

While his world crept closer to full color, Brock’s eyes went back to the busker. He was sat cross legged leaning against the stone with a guitar in his lap, the case open in front of him. A beanie kept his hair off his face and a tiny dog was wagging it’s tail next to him, beaming at everyone who walked by. Brock swore his eyes were the greenest thing he’s ever seen, and considering the color seeping into his vision, they were.

So now he had an unknowing soulmate in front of him, another soulmate on his arm, and an anxiety disorder.

Did he handle this situation well? Of course not.

“Shit.” He breathed out.

“What’s up?” Jonathan put his book down and looked at him with a confused look in his eyes.

“Um. He’s...he’s a soulmate.” He motioned to the busker. Jonathan looked over to him for a second.

“Well shit, he is.” Now was not the time for calm, goddamn it, didn't Delirious know this? Fuck, he’s never found a soulmate with a soulmate before. Fuck. So he panicked and started talking.

“How do I handle this? Are you okay with this? Did I ever tell you what it’s like because nothing really compares to finding a soulmate and God, chick flicks never prepared me for this.” Brock nervously chattered. He was in the middle of how the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell when Jon huffed and grabs his face.

“Brock. It’s not that big a deal.”

“He has a dog!”

“Shut up. Look at me man.” He did, anxiously looking at his boyfriend and waiting for his response. “Just do it.” Okay. Okay, that was a start, this’ll be a good speech- “Don’t let your dreams be dreams.” Oh my god.

“You asshole!” He laughed and smacked his hands away, sticking his tongue out when Delirious started laughing. “I was waiting for a speech!”

“And you got one! Now go get our boy before that bitch does.” Brock turned around to see a brunette chatting up Green Eyes and mentally started screaming, but physically, just shook a little bit. If some random girl gets his soulmate he swore to God, he’ll, do something.

He walked up slowly, looking at the dog smiling at him instead of the busker. The dog’s always the better choice.

The girl steps away when he gets close, leaving with a wave, and Brock tried not to feel victorious.

“Excuse me?” The busker switched from her to him, looking up at him with a friendly smile that was way too cute for how long they’ve known each other.

“Yeah?” He’s Irish. Goddamn it, he’s a sucker for accents.

“Um. I was wondering if you took requests?” He’s pulling things out of his ass now, but whatever. He's just waiting for a reaction that didn't come. He didn't do a thing. Nothing. Not a blink, or any reaction at all, just a guy seeing another guy. Brock tried to ignore the way his heart hurt.

“Sure, whadda want?”

Something sad and brooding, ideally.

“Do you know who The Wombats are?”

He sat on the fountain next to him as-David, he found out later-sang his song as his dog tried to jump onto Brock’s lap. He pet him gently, trying to treasure the feeling of soft fur instead of David’s voice singing one of his favorite songs. Dogs were so much better than boys.

“Thank you.” He murmured afterwards, putting the puppy on the ground and standing up to the complaint of his joints.

“No problem.” He left a twenty in his case and walked back to Jon, barely keeping himself from falling into his lap and never leaving. His boyfriend stood as he walked over and upon seeing his face, dragged him into a fierce hug.

“He doesn’t know.” He whispered. Jonathan just held him tighter and said,

“Let’s go home.” They walk away with their arms around each other and it’s almost enough to make Brock feel better, but they have to separate to walk correctly and his comfort stepping away just worsens his mood.

By the time they get home Brock’s just exhausted, tired of everything that breathes, and he walked straight into their bedroom and, curled up under the comforter, fell into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
